Preperations
by Rothalion
Summary: Alexander prepares for the battle of Gaugamela. Twist on the tent scene.


**Preparations**

Rated: mature; suggested M/M relationship

Summery: Night before Gaugamela. Night before any battle really. Its hard for me to see these two apart before facing certain death.

Its 1 a.m. so no editing.

Disclaimer: "On the night before battle.." line Stone's Alexander. I like it so….its borrowed.

Warnings: Again suggested M?M stuff.

"Alexander?" Hephaistion asked; head cocked slightly to the left trying to peer through the shadowy murk of the king's tent, lit only by the fallow gloom of the eclipsing moon; to see what his king was doing. The odor of burning hair assailed his nostrils and he coughed with a half snort to clear the vile stench from his awareness. It was hair and it seemed a bit of flesh. "Alexander?" He asked again as he hesitantly crossed the dim space and knelt beside the silent, kneeling hunched figure of the man who stood poised to rule the world. "What is it you burn Alexander and why? Hair Alexander? Flesh? Are you drunk? Fevered? Alexander?"

"I am preparing myself, Hephaistion." Came his answer. The king's was voice husky, yet brittle. No hint of courage or leadership could be found in its odd baritone fragility.

Hephaistion was confused. "Preparing, Alexander?"

"The best of all battles is a well prepared one. No?"

"Yes, Alexander. We have done that. We have been over and over and over your strategy. It is without flaw. Parminion be damned! Its his courage that's flawed! It is, your plan, a plan without error. Only cowardice can bring it to failure." Hephaistion coughed again to clear his throat. Burning hair spelt death to him. Burning flesh he could tolerate; but burning hair nauseated him and this odor was mostly hair.

"Without flaw."

Alexander was scaring him, a thing that Hephaistion was ill equipped to deal with. He watched the king stir the contents of the soapstone bowl around with the point of his treasured dagger. It had, the dagger, been taken from the dying grasp of a member of the Sacred Band of Thebes after their first sally into battle. Hephaistion could not help but finger the hilt of his own Theban blade. It was identical to the king's, taken from the fallen Theban's partner. Hephaistion, in a flash of memory, shuddered as he recalled the taking of the daggers. Out of respect, the two young Macedonian's, flush with the joy of victory and conversely crushed by the horror of the death they had reaped upon their Theban idles had put to a merciful death a pair of the outstanding Theban fighters. They prayed over the tightly embraced warriors then took the two daggers; swearing to never show the dead men disgrace in battle. Coughing again as unburned hair caught flame and the dim space filled with the noxious scent of finality Hephaistion furrowed his brow and studied Alexander in the flickering light.

"Eclipse." He uttered absently as the tent grew ominously darker. "Aristotle said an ordered mind, and soul could eclipse all things. That the love between two men when pure could and would eclipse all hardship and make all things possible. Your strategy is ordered, your love pure…. So why do you fret Alexander? What for the god's sake is it you do here tonight? Alexander!"

"You gag."

"Yes, Alexander I gag. Its burning hair and I hate it. Its…it's the end of my family…my mother and sister… their hair burned and burned…its death and finality its…"

"It is you. It is _our_ fate. Achilles and Patroclus that burdens me."

Hephaistion shuddered. "What are you saying Alexander? Doing?"

The king again stirred the contents of the soapstone bowl and again the hair flared and filled the tent with vile fumes. "It is you. It is your pyre Hephaistion. It is the loss of you that I prepare myself for. 40,000 against 100's of thousands. I prepare myself for the inevitable loss of the other half of my mortal soul."

Hephaistion stared at Alexander in stunned silence. Loss of him. He would never die before Alexander. The gods be damned and fate and prophecy with them. Patroclus had been a fool. _He_ was no fool. _He_ would die at the same time as Alexander like the two Thebans. What was wrong with the king's thinking?

"I cut it from your hair while you slept. Bit by bit. I had to know Hephaistion…had to know what your death would smell like. What I'd have to bear up to…" He sighed and slumped a bit. "I took the flesh also while you slept. From that flap of skin over your elbow… that Cleitus left you with. Why he still treats you so harshly in training defeats me. I think it is to prevent me this horror. The horror of these odors." He waved his hand over the soapstone bowl and snorted as the smoke filled his nose with the smell of Hephaistion's death. "Its your pyre Patroclus. Planning. I am so weary of planning. I fear the odds for our, your, surviv…"

"Alexander." Hephaistion's voice was softer than the whisper of a breeze through reeds on the Nile; a sound Alexander loved and dearly missed. It shushed the king's voice as deftly as the earth had eclipsed the light of the moon. "Alexander, Patroclus, your Patroclus, me Hephaistion, General Hephaistion will not perish tomorrow. Alexander, Hephaistion, your Hephaistion, will not perish on the morrow. Put these base fears and worries to rest." He reached out and cupped the kings cheek in his hand. "My pyre? Never will I allow you to stand over my pyre. Never Alexander. Now be done with this madness. Quench that foolish fire and ready yourself for bed and battle."

"Hephaistion, on the eve of…"

"To Hades with the eve of battle omens Alexander!" Hephaistion spat snuffing out the soapstone bowl with the palm of his hand; ignoring the searing pain. "I'd rather you just held me like our dying Theban, Alexander; tight and firm to your chest so I can hear your great heart pounding… Even if it is for what as you say might just be one last time in your great embrace. That Alexander is planning."

Copyright: T.Glynn 7-8-07


End file.
